Of Muggles and Acquired Tastes
by Weekendwriter9
Summary: A story about impulse decisions, redemption and discovery. Coffee may have been Hermione Granger's acquired taste, but for Draco Malfoy, she was an acquired taste... (Disclaimer: I'm not JK Rowling and hence do not own Harry Potter. If I did, clearly Dramione would have been a thing. No profit is being made form this work.)
1. Of Midnight Visits

It was well past midnight on New Year's Eve when a rather insistent taping on her window woke up Hermione Granger. Expecting it to be yet another "emergency" owl from Harry she dragged herself out of bed, annoyed at the prospect of once again having to transport a drunk Ron or Neville home. Stumbling to and opening the window, she decided her sleep-induced brain must be playing tricks on her. Instead of the snowy mass that was Hedwig, a black blur barrelled in to her room. Upon rubbing the sleep out of her eyes, she deduced the black blur to be none other than Malfoy's regal eagle owl, Soot. Unsure of why Draco Malfoy, self-proclaimed hater of Muggleborns, would owl her at such an ungodly hour on New Year's Eve, she approached the owl rather hesitantly.

The owl was perched on her bedframe with one leg outstretched and a haughty expression on its face; like somehow she was wasting his time by being wary. Typical Malfoy, she thought, Snooty Soot. Were all Malfoys, humans and animals alike, trained at a young age to exude that superior air? She was drawn out of her inner musings by good old Soot hooting and jiggling the letter attached to his outstretched leg. Maybe it was a howler about her muddy blood tainting the wizarding world. Or perhaps it was a cursed letter with the intention of making her teeth revert back into the beaver form. Either way, the New Year suddenly wasn't looking too good. Being Hermione Granger however, her curiosity soon outweighed her distrust of Malfoy. Much to the displeasure of Soot , she performed some quick detection charms on the letter and deeming it to be safe enough, Hermione untied the letter. Having anticipated the owl to fly off as soon as he was relieved of the letter, she was surprised when he merely perched more comfortably on her bedframe and gave her an expectant look. Weird, she thought, was Malfoy expecting a reply?

"Dear Granger" had been crossed out to "Dear Hermione". She raised her eyebrow in surprise. She didn't think Malfoy had ever addressed her by her first name before.

"I heard you broke up with the Weasel," it read. "Meaning you have a spare room in your nice little Muggle apartment. I want to live in the Muggle world. Meaning I need a room. So, when can I move in?

Draco"

For a few seconds, she just stood there gawking at the expensive piece of parchment in her hands. Since when did a Malfoy want to live amongst Muggles? Malfoy's usually oh-so-elegant cursive script had been reduced to sloppy chicken scratches; he was clearly inebriated. Of course, even in his drunken state he was trying to mess with her! Was the bloody owl smirking? Dammit, Malfoy was seriously messing with her head! Snapping her jaw shut Hermione summoned a parchment and quill, it was clear the owl wasn't going anywhere without a reply.

"Are you insane?" She wrote. Staring at the parchment for a minute she shook her head. No, that was a rhetorical question.

"No you bigoted prat" was her second reply. More shaking of her head. No, that was too aggressive. Unsatisfied, she summoned a new piece of parchment.

"How about the 5th of Never?" she grimaced at her own words. As overused and immature as it was, she didn't think her sleep muddled brain could come up with anything better. Settling for the childish question, Hermione tied it along with Malfoy's letter onto Soot's once again outstretched leg. With a whispered ' _à hoot à l'heure_ ' she watched the owl fly away into the night.


	2. Of Awkward Brunches and Revelations

Author's Note: Hi all! I'm new to the site here at , so I completely forgot to do one of these little author's notes at the start of my last chapter! First things first, (I'm the realest) disclaimer: I don't own the Harry Potter franchise and no profit is being made from this fanfiction. If I was J.K. Rowling, y'all know Dramione would have been real.

Secondly, this is a work in progress and there will be around 10 chapters perhaps. I'm not too sure yet. Hope you keep reading and reviewing. Enjoy

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The next morning was one of those glorious mornings; the type where the sunlight streaming in through her blinds and Crookshanks huddled next to her made her feel like a warm, floating mass of happiness. And there was the massive Sunday brunch at the Weasley's, held to celebrate the New Year, to look forward to. Knowing Molly, this meant she probably wouldn't have to cook for the next couple of days. All in all, despite the letter from Malfoy, this year was looking pretty good. In fact, all this goodness forced any thoughts of Malfoy out of her mind.

However, as she got dressed, there was a slight feeling of trepidation pooling in her stomach at the prospect of seeing Ron again. They had seen each other a handful of times since the breakup a month ago; once at dinner with Harry and Ginny and then some passing glances in Diagon Alley when she walked past Weasleys' Wizard Wheezes. It wasn't like her and Ron had a messy split; in fact, they had a very amicable separation much to the chagrin of the likes of Rita Skeeter. But, as soon as they broke up, Ron had packed up all his things and shifted into Grimmauld with Harry and Ginny despite her insistence he didn't have to. The way in which Ron had just up and left was almost hurtful; she had hoped that he would stay for a while and at least make an attempt at keeping their friendship strong. Even though the separation was her heart's desire, his sudden disappearance left a void in her life. The flat felt eerily quiet, it looked too neat and smelt too clean. Even Crooks agreed; sometimes she would catch her cat sitting on the exact spot on the couch normally occupied by Ron with a forlorn expression on his face.

It was with these melancholy thoughts in her head that Hermione flooed into the Burrow, but the atmosphere there was such that one could not remain melancholy if they tried. Upon arrival, she was immediately greeted by George Weasley's smiling face and soaked in some liquid that smelt like lavender. Okay, maybe she wasn't soaked. But whatever the bloody thing George spritzed into her face was, had gone straight into her nose and mouth and did not taste particularly pleasant. "What in Merlin's name George!" she spluttered indignantly in the midst of her coughing.

Regardless of her complaining, George swooped her into a tight hug. "Relax Mione," he said releasing her and with an arm around her shoulder. It was at this point that she noticed most of the room's attention was on her. Great. "What you've just experienced is the latest invention in the Weasley's Wizard Wheazes line of home products; The Flawless Floo mist. One spritz, and all evidence of your flooing is gone. See, no soot on your robes or your pretty little face".

Even though she knew George was laying it on thick, she couldn't help but smile. "Ah, I see," she said clapping him on the back. "This George, is one of those rare occasions where I actually approve of your products. In fact, I rather like it. Is it in stores yet?"

"Why thank you, milady" George bowed, "but this time the credit goes to my little brother. Won won is the one who came up with this little gem. And no, not in stores yet."

Won won. The old nickname brought back traumatic memories of sixth year when Ron spent most of his spare time with his tongue shoved down Lavender's throat. Lavender! He chose to have the mist smelling like lavender? Struggling to keep a frown off her face and the smile still plastered on, she turned to Ron. "Congratulations Ron! That was very clever of you, quite a useful little invention."

Ron thanked her with a blank face and turned back to his conversation with Charlie. At Ron's rather clipped tone and his lack of interest in talking to her, Hermione couldn't suppress her frown. And then it clicked! In trying to compliment him, she had once again accidentally insulted his intelligence commenting on his ability to be clever. She could have kicked herself then.

Sensing the awkwardness between the two, Neville stepped in. "Hermione, come on outside," he said taking her hand. "Harry was looking for you earlier." Glad to escape the room and her guilt at having once again belittled Ron, Hermione followed Neville outside. From then, she was swept up in waves of the boisterous crowd that was a Weasley gathering. She spent her time eating, laughing and catching up with a lot of old Hogwarts friends. While having a conversation with Seamus on the merits and demerits of the Felix Felicis potion, she heard Luna's dreamy voice say "Malfoy" and "Muggle world". Alarmed at those two words terms ever going together, she excused herself from Seamus as soon as she could and went in search of Luna. Finding the blonde girl sitting on the ground observing some garden gnomes fighting over a sausage, Hermione let out a relieved sigh.

"Hey Luna," she knelt down next to the other girl. "How have you been?"

"Oh, hello Hermione! I'm the same as the last time you saw me, perhaps with fewer nargles surrounding me." At this, she held her hand up and examined it from a couple of different angles. "I heard you and Ron broke up. I think it's a good thing, there's less drillyworms around your ears."

Accustomed to the other girl's oddity and unalarmed by the prospect of any kind of worms around her ears, Hermione ploughed on, "Say, Luna, earlier I heard you say something about the Malfoys and the Muggle world? Did I hear you right?"

"You did," Luna's serene voice answered. "I was talking to Dean about the outcome of the Malfoys' trial. Lucius has been sentenced to two years in Azkaban, Narcissa is under house arrest for six months and Draco Malfoy has to live in the muggle world without magic for the next six months. I was reporting it for daddy's magazine; he's investigating the effect of blubbertrubbles on the outcome of Ministry trials." With this rather extra-ordinary statement, Luna went back to observing the garden gnomes without a second glance at Hermione's dumbstruck expression.

The Malfoy trial had been a hot topic of discussion in the Daily Prophet for the past year. Following the war, unlike all the other Death Eaters and Voldemort supporters, the Malfoys weren't immediately put to trial. Their last minute switch of allegiance and their Gringotts vaults overflowing with Galleons bought them time. While many witches and wizards in Britain were outraged by this, Hermione couldn't bring herself to care. She was done with the war, had sacrificed more than anyone had any right to ask of her. Harry, Ron and her along with countless others had secured the freedom of the wizarding world at great personal cost. Someone else could deal with the aftermath and the clean-up. That was the very reason neither Harry, Ron nor her chose to work at the Ministry. Harry and Ginny were both much sought after Quidditch players, Ron worked with his brother at Weasley's Wizard Wheezes and she was a researcher at Mungo's.

But now, finally hearing the outcome of the Malfoy trial, she didn't feel the relief she was expecting. Instead, she felt rather guilty at her response to Malfoy's letter yesterday. Drunk or not, if he was asking for a place to live with his former nemesis; he must have been seriously desperate. Was she feeling sympathetic towards Draco Malfoy? No. No, it was pity because Draco Malfoy did not deserve anyone's sympathy, much less hers. However, he also didn't deserve to be cast out into the Muggle world on his own. She made up her mind to go visit him as soon as she could; offer him her spare room for rent. That way she could also keep an eye on him, make sure he didn't make life hell for any Muggles. And a tiny, niggling voice in the back of her head reminded her that that way her flat wouldn't feel as desolate as a mausoleum. Dear Lord, she really must have hit rock bottom if she was going to rely on Draco Malfoy for some quality human company!

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Author's Note: Hope you liked this chapter. Stay tuned for some Dramione interaction in the next chapter!


	3. Chapter 3: Of Important Decisions

Author's note: Thank you all for your lovely reviews and sorry about the late update. But what with being back at school and everything, I was quite busy. However, your awesome messages encouraged me to find time and write up this little chapter and the next…Two updates in a day! YAY! Also, I do appreciate constructive criticism. If there's aspects of my writing style you like/ don't like, lemme know!

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She found out from Dean, who found out from Seamus, who worked at the Ministry, that Malfoy was granted a week from the hearing to find somewhere to live in the Muggle world. Which meant if he didn't find somewhere habitable in the next four days, the Ministry would just randomly plonk him somewhere in the Muggle world.

Had Malfoy ever even been to Muggle London? She assumed Lucius would just point to the brick wall behind the Leaky Cauldron and say to his son, "Over there is where the Mudblood scum come from. It's Muggle infested slum Draco, you don't want to go there ".

She remembered how out of place she had felt when she first entered the wizarding world. Witches with pointy hats and brooms and wizards in purple cloaks were a figment of her imagination till then; something stolen from her childhood picture books. To see herself surrounded by this alternate reality had been disconcerting, to say the least. But she had her parents' hands to hold and guidance from McGonagall on her first venture into Diagon Alley. Later at Hogwarts, she had Harry and the Weasleys to fill that void caused by being as far as possible from the normalcy of the Muggle world. The world in which she grew up. The world in which her parents lived. The world into which she was born.

The more she thought about it, the sorrier she felt for Draco Malfoy. She couldn't believe it; she was worrying over the boy who had bullied her and her friends relentlessly at Howarts. The boy who had made life hell throughout her teenage years. The boy whose father tried to murder her. But, that was who she was; a bleeding heart Gryffindor who would rather watch her own sufferring than someone else's.

He may have been a racist and a bully, but that was before the war. Whenever she had seen photographs of him after the Final Battle splashed across the pages of the Daily Prophet, it had been missing the trademark "I am better than thou" Malfoy look. She had seen a blank face, with hollow eyes and a grim set mouth. She knew it was utter ridiculousness to think Malfoy was no longer the arrogant prat he was back at Hogwarts; but war did have a profound impact on people. It changed everyone. Everyone. Sometimes for the better, sometimes for the worse.

As with anything else, Hermione thought long and hard before she made up her mind; she would get Malfoy to live with her. He would easily dismiss her if she owled him. Which only left her with one option. She'd have to go see him in person if she were to actually convince him to live with her. It was with this steely determination that Hermione apparated to the gates of Malfoy Manor. The day was once again bright and sunny; meaning the gothic appearance of the Manor failed to appear menacing. If anything, it was all a bit incongruous: a big dark gothic palace, pure white peacocks, and a smiling sun.

She knew the wards on the estate wouldn't let her in and it wasn't like there was a calling bell or one of those box things on the gate like in Muggle movies. Unsure of what to do once she was actually there, Hermione just stood tapping her wand against her thigh and awkwardly staring up at the manor. She was considering turning one of the peacocks neon pink or doing something equally drastic to announce her presence when a house elf popped up in front of her. The wrinkly, old elf with floppy, batlike ears was wearing what looked like a child's pyjamas; purple with twinkling, yellow stars. Despite his ridiculous appearance, the house elf carried himself with the gravity of a butler and stared up at Hermione with extreme seriousness, "State your name and the purpose of your visit."

"My name is Hermione Granger and I'm here to speak to Draco Malfoy."

At her name, the house elf's collected demeanour immediately vanished and he clasped his hands to his chest with a dramatic gasp, "No! Never!" Confused as to why her name caused such a reaction Hermione went forward to speak, but the elf immediately took a few steps backwards as if her presence would burn him. "Master called you to help get rid of Twinky! Twinky is not leaving. Twinky was born here, Twinky's mother was born here and Twinky's mother's mother was born here. I is not leaving the Manor. Master can try giving Twinky clothes and call in the crazy house elf lady but Twinky will not leave."

Ah, that explained the pyjamas. A bit affronted at being called the 'crazy house elf lady', Hermione folded her arms and gave the elf her best no-nonsense look. "I'm not here to force you to leave the Manor Twinky," at this the elf looked a bit less distressed and Hermione continued, "I just need to speak to Draco Malfoy. He is your master I assume?" To this, the house elf nooded in the affirmative. Of course Draco was the master of the house now, what with Lucius in Azkaban. And it wasn't like Lucius would give starry pyjamas to a house elf anyway.

With a reassuring smile plastered on, Hermione asked the elf, "Could you please let him know I'm here to see him?" Once again nodding his big, bald head, Twinky disapparated away with a pop.

When the elf still hadn't reappeared after five minutes, Hermione realised Malfoy probably didn't want to let her in. Damn it! She should have used a fake name. She was leaning against the gate contemplating harassing him through owl post when she saw a figure come out of the Manor's massive, black double doors. As the figure got closer, she saw it was none other than the subject of her visit.


	4. Chapter 4: Of A Reluctant Tenant

If one thing hadn't changed about Draco Malfoy, it was his immaculate appearance. He was dressed in a perfectly tailored robe which probably cost more Galleons than her Gringotts account had. Talking about changes though, his hair was no longer slicked back with a ridiculous amount of gel, but rather combed naturally to the side. And his walk was missing its usual swagger, but he still had a confident gait. When they were close enough to make eye contact, she noticed that his eyes no longer held scorn for her; but his expression was schooled to give nothing away.

"Granger," he spoke once he had stopped on the other side of the gate. Was his voice deeper? "To what do I owe the pleasure?" She couldn't find any traces of sarcasm in his expression.

Rather disconcerted by her first encounter with this polite Malfoy, Hermione blurted out the first thing that came to her mind, "Not going to invite me in Malfoy?"

She could have sworn his eyes widened a bit in confusion, but within the blink of an eye his face was once again impassive. "Didn't think you would care to come in. What with being tortured the last time you were in there and all."

She winced at such a casual mention of what Bellatrix had put her through. "If I associated places and people with all my bad memories from the war, I'd have to hole myself up in a cabin in the middle of nowhere Malfoy."

She wasn't actually expecting Malfoy to invite her in but that's precisely what he did. Opening the gates with a touch of his hand, Malfoy beckoned her in, turned around and started walking towards the house. Struggling to keep up with his long strides and finding the silence eerily uncomfortable, Hermione once again blurted her first thought, "Why not just apparate inside?"

When Malfoy turned to look at her, he had a condescending look, but still no malice. "You can, if you so please. But I am trying to reduce my use of magic." He kept walking, this time with a sneer on his face, "I'm sure you've heard of the Ministry's soon to be enforced impositions on me."

Sensing the perfect opportunity to broach the topic of her visit, Hermione stopped and turned to face him. When he had stopped as well, she took a deep breath and rushed out, "That's why I've come to see you. I'm here to offer you a place to live: my flat."

This time, she knew for sure she didn't imagine the widening of his eyes. "If this is about the letter Granger…"

"It's not!" she cut him off. "Well the letter did put the idea in my head, but only after I heard the outcome of your trial." At this, his face hardened and she knew she had put her foot in her mouth again. She had forgotten for a moment that Malfoy was a prideful human being. If he thought she was presenting the offer to live her because she considered him a pity case, he would surely decline. In fact, he'd immediately go on the defensive and probably insult her.

"I'm not a sodding house elf Granger. I don't need your charity. And if you couldn't tell from the script of my letter, I was drunk." He scoffed out a laugh and Hermione prepared herself for whatever nastiness would be spewed out of his mouth. "What person in their sane mind would actually want to live with you? Come to think of it, even Weasley couldn't get away fast enough."

Even though she had anticipated it, Hermione was still hurt by his insult. However, once she had her mind set on something, Hermione Granger didn't give up. Putting on her stern face, Hermione placed a hand on her hip and jabbed Malfoy in the chest with the index finger of the other. "Listen here Malfoy, I'm not here because I feel sorry for you" Okay, that was a lie. "You are not getting my bloody 'charity'. If you think I'm here to start a Society for the Promotion of Malfoyish Welfare, you couldn't be more wrong. And not that it's any of your business, but I was the one who broke it off with Ron. I'm here to offer you a place to live. For rent. A room in the heart of Muggle London for just a hundred Galleons a fortnight. You'd be an idiot to turn me away."

"Don't you think that's a bit expensive Granger?" he folded his arms across his chest. Possibly to stop her from poking him again.

"Since when do you not have Galleons to spare Malfoy?" she mimicked his pose.

"Since when are you in such desperate need of money?" he had one eyebrow raised.

"That's none of your business," she answered in typical Hermione fashion with an eye-roll for good measure.

"Come off it Granger," he had both eyebrows raised now.

Deciding to appeal to his Slytherin traits of comfort and self-preservation, Hermione said, "You couldn't get a better place to live Malfoy! You don't just get to live in an amazing apartment in the most amazing part of London, you also get the most amazing housemate" At his openly incredulous look, she narrowed her eyes, "Oh come on, Malfoy! I am your best choice for a housemate in this situation. I'm a Muggle-born witch. Not only will I be able to help you find your way around and settle into the muggle world, but by living with me you won't lose all connection to the magical world."

"What's in it for you Granger?" He had that blank look on again.

Merlin, was he always this difficult? She huffed in exasperation,"Maybe I just want to be able to keep an eye on you Malfoy, make sure you don't go around terrorising any poor Muggle children"

The incredulous expression hadn't left his face and Hermione was sure he could see straight through her lies. Getting impatient, she tapped her foot "I don't have all day Malfoy. And," she emphasised, "it's not like there's a queue of potential landlords."

Malfoy still remained silent, considering her with a sombre expression and Hermione refused to look away. Just when she thought she might actually call it a day and try her luck again tomorrow, he spoke, "I'll be needing your address"

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Author's Note: Well, there you have it! Two chapters at once my lovelies. To keep us all entertained till the next update, comment your top three favourite Dramione stories. I have way too many and my favourites keep changing according to my mood. Currently, they are: The Fallout by everythursday, Thirteenth Night by Nelpher and The Melting Stars by Attica.


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